


And baby makes four

by Sys



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Family Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28336968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sys/pseuds/Sys
Summary: This is basically fluffy kidfic/curtainfic? If you'd like to, you're welcome to read this as a continuation of "All I want for Christmas..." but there's nothing in that one that you'll need to understand this one.
Relationships: Patrick Jane/Teresa Lisbon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12
Collections: fandomtrees





	And baby makes four

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamerfound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamerfound/gifts).



> This was written as a little fandomtrees gift for dreamerfound. I really hope that it's something close to what you're looking for with these guys. :)

“Don't be mad, Mom.”

Not her favorite first words before she's even taken off her jacket and put away her keys. She offers Sammy her best 'let me come in first' look and Sammy studies her with the earnest face of a seven year old who's been talked to for fighting kids in the school yard thrice in as many months. Completely necessary fights, of course. She's even agreed, despite the caution that you don't hit people to get your way and the reminder that there are teachers who'll help you if you see someone hurting others. They're both proud of her need to step in and protect children weaker than she is, maybe that's why she's done it again...

“Does Ms. Grayling want to see me?” 

“What? No! Nothing like that.”

“Oh. Good.” After she's set aside her jacket and keys she gives Sammy her hug and kiss. Refrains, with regret, from tousling black curls because her daughter's _far_ too old for that, though she wasn't just a few months ago, but that was before the baby. It's comforting, to some extent, that there's a vast and elaborate safety system that'll protect her eldest from ever having to become a mother to her own siblings, but still... no need to become a teen in a matter of months. “Do you want to see the new picture?”

“You could see mine... I painted us. And baby sis.”

“On the walls again?”

“A true artist. Just like her mother!” She hears from... the kitchen, probably.

“Thanks, Jane.” Helpful as always. “What's your father up to?”

“He's making us pizza Hawaii.”

Subtle. She suppresses the sigh. “Would _you_ like to move, sweetie?”

The endearment's slipped past and she faces the familiar scowl with a disarming smile. 

“Maddie's been there with Ben and Ben's family... she says Hawaii's paradise and she'll come and visit whenever she can. But Meg and Tyson say they'd reaaallllly miss me.”

“Well we won't make any decisions till your sister's here and I'm not moving with a newborn, so...”

“Show me baby sis.”

She takes out the ultra-sound. 

“She's looking less and less like a tadpole every time.” 

“Disappointing, I know, but she's supposed to look like a human baby when she's done. Show me your drawing.”

They're heading for Sammy's room, which is vastly better than further living room redecorations, and she _is_ getting better at painting, if only she'd stick with using her drawing table, her treasure trove of pencils, sharpie pens and watercolors – and a sheet of paper. There's a heart around the baby that melds away whatever frustration might've stolen in at finding yet another wall portrait... blatant manipulation, but it's working because Sammy _is_ excited about her sister, more so than they'd hoped she would be. 

“Why do we use paper, Sam?”

“So we can put it up on the wall and take it back down when we'd prefer a different picture. Like with the fairy lights we bought to replace the glow-in-the-dark-stars.”

“Did dad explain that to you?”

“No. Why?”

“I like the comparison. You're a smart cookie.”

“Dad says I'm probably smarter than both of you put together.”

“Let's hope not.”

“Why?”

“It's more fun to be one of the smartest than it is to be the smartest.”

“Maybe my sister's smarter than me.”

“She's only been a tadpole a few months ago, remember? Let's give her a few years before we send in her Mensa application.” Sammy deigns to accept that with a nod. “Any more As to put on the fridge you're going to tell me about?”

“No.”

“You don't need to keep them as bargaining chips for the times Ms. Grayling calls.”

“Just math.”

“Ah... yeah math really doesn't count.”

“And Spanish.”

“Good... but you're still studying next time.”

“But Mom...”

“You can't always use your memory palace for everything, Sam. Better to learn to study the hard way now and keep your palace for special occasions.”

“Dad says I'm getting a tiara if my report card's all As.”

“Of course he does.” Probably bought it already, too, though hopefully it's a children's toy, not an actual tiara. “Let's go beleaguer dad and tell him we're really hungry.”

“Beleaguer, Mom?”

“Oh lay siege to, initially, I think, but it's more like... let's get on his nerves?”

“Okay.”

There's something reassuring about the way her very grown-up daughter who's too old for glow-in-the-dark stars and hair touslings puts a hand into hers as they head to the kitchen, twinned pestering smiles ready to be unleashed.


End file.
